#Home buying for veterans

[arizonanativerealtor]

Understanding VA Loans in Phoenix, AZ: Benefits, Eligibility, and What They Don’t Cover

VA home loans are a powerful benefit for veterans, active-duty military members, and surviving spouses looking to purchase a home in Phoenix, Arizona. Backed by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, these loans offer unique advantages that make homeownership more accessible—especially in competitive markets like Phoenix. What Is a VA Loan? A VA loan is a government-backed mortgage that…

[bondstreetmortgage]

Discover the advantages of VA Home Loans offered by Bond Street Mortgage Loans, where we specialize in helping veterans, active military personnel, and their families achieve homeownership. Our VA Home Loans come with numerous benefits, including no down payment requirements, no private mortgage insurance, and competitive interest rates. At Bond Street Mortgage Loans, we pride ourselves on our commitment to providing exceptional service and support to those who have served our country. Our knowledgeable team is here to guide you through the entire loan process, ensuring a smooth and stress-free experience. Start your journey to homeownership with us and take advantage of a loan program designed specifically for your needs.

[lee-romee]

this is a great time of year to buy from native stores or donate to native organizations. you can figure out who's land you're on here, and below i've listed some (of many) businesses you can support ♡

B.Yellowtail --- jewlery, clothing, and home goods designed by Bethany Yellowtail, citizen of the Northern Cheyenne Nation and from the Apsáalooke (Crow) Nation

Cheekbone Beauty --- sustainable, low-waste beauty products from Jenn Harper, an Anishinaabe artist based in Canada

Trickster --- atheletic products from Tlingit and Deg Hit’an Athabascan siblings (Alaska)

NativeHumboldt on Etsy --- the artist, Shayna McCullough, and their fiancé make designs inspired by traditional designs from their culture; she is from the Yurok tribe and descended from the Hupa, Karuk, Redwood Creek, Pit River, Yuki, Wintun, Pomo (tribes in California), and Chetco tribe (in Oregon)

OklahomaThirtyNine on Etsy --- they mostly sell beaded work, particularly earrings, as well as some necklaces

xBeadsByMandyx on Etsy --- handmade beaded earrings, from a Cherokee veteran

food products, from wine to sauces to teas to mixes to fish to jerky and nuts, sorted by store with details beside each store

[digitaltechpro]

How to Apply for a VA Home Loan

The VA domestic mortgage application is one of the most recommended perks reachable to cutting-edge and former participants of the U.S. military. This initiative, managed via the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), objectives to assist provider members, veterans, and eligible surviving spouses reap the dream of homeownership with favorable phrases and conditions. If you are thinking about making…

[ruins-of-gods]

Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.

Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.

Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.

Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.

[cowboyshadows]

He’s a grumpy veteran. Sleeps with a knife under his bed, flinches at fireworks. Get the dog, is Price’s order advice. So he drags his feet begrudgingly to the local shelter, fully expecting to walk out empty handed. Just for the sake of it, so Price’ll stop bothering him.

You’re working the shift that day. Immediately clock him as ex-military. Take him to the room of older, more scarred dogs–shared trauma helps the two animals bond. Tell him to take a look around, wait for that special connection, that special click moment to happen. He thinks it’s all bullshit, but he bites regardless.

His eyes roam the room. Pitbulls, dobermans, rottweilers. All tough and scary looking, but their eyes are kind and their tongues hang out in pants. They all look excited to see him. Except one.

One, looks more than pleased. Dutiful. The german shepherd stands, notched and torn ears perked up. She has small punctures on her snout. Her neck is riddled with raised, old bites, a ring of scar tissue that has scarce and patchy fur. One of her paws is slightly misshapen, toe sticking out. Her elbows are viscerally calloused.

He walks closer to her, slowly like he’s approaching a startled doe. She’s silent, body flinching slightly with him. He looks her straight in her eyes, brown boring into yellow. You and I are the same, he tries to say. And he knows she’s trying to listen.

“She’s a special one,” you say, the voices of the other dogs quieting at his obvious interest. “Think she escaped from a dogfighting ring.”

He inhales sharply, now crouching down to her level. She stares at him with an unwavering posture, but behind her eyes rages a flame of something uncertain. Shaky. He recognises it better than his own mirror.

“What’s her name?”

“Doesn’t have one. Abandoned, no chip or collar. Everyone here just calls her birdie.”

The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly. “She’ll do.”

He takes her home, carries her in his big arms. She’s heavy, well fed. He has you to thank for that. You talk him into buying this pink collar for her, a bunch of toys that make a noise when squeezed, and a bed that’s probably softer than his own. There’s this one dirty, tattered bunny plushie Riley insists on taking with her. 

Convinces himself he’s not attached. But everytime someone so much as tries to pet her without permission, he glares. Bites out the words “show some respect” with bared teeth. Damn dog doesn’t even use her own bed. Sleeps at the foot of his, and only because he won’t let her come to the main bed. Something about being dirty and slobbering over him. All that goes out the window when he wakes to sounds of whining and whimpering, her body twitching in sleep. He recognises that better than anyone.

It’s her first nightmare with him, and thanks to her sleeping cuddled in his arms every night from then on, it’s her last. He sleeps better, too. Mutually beneficial arrangement, he justifies it as. Sneaks her scraps during dinner, all the while telling her how spoiled she is. How ill mannered she is. But the grin on his face says otherwise.

He keeps visiting you at the shelter. Dog’s good for something, at least. Asks you questions he knows the answer to. “What the hell does it mean when she whines like that?” 

“She wants attention, Simon.”

“Bloody princess,” he mutters, proceeding to pet her for ten minutes. Scratches her behind the ear and below her chin, gives her belly rubs just to see her wiggle around. He used to be something scary and serious, you know. Now he’s just some guy who’d kill for his daughter.

He comes to see you even if he doesn’t have questions. Makes up some stupid excuse like, “came to see if she needed… supplies. Or something.” Won’t admit that he’s interested in you. Riley foils all his attempts at being nonchalant by wagging her tail whenever she sees you, or slobbering over your face in kisses.

Eventually, he stops pretending. Brings you coffee. Comes there just to hang out and talk. Stutters and leaves immediately when you ask him on a date, but Riley drags him back by sheer force. It’s ridiculous.

[evilminji]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[pejite]

Hi! Today, I’m sharing a list of mods that I consider essential for playing historical gameplay in The Sims.

I often have friends who want to dive into the Decades Challenge but aren’t sure which mods to use or where to start. So, in this post, I’m going to share the mods I personally use and think are indispensable for creating that authentic historical experience.

Deaderpool's MC Command Center: This mod allows you to manage and modify many aspects of your game, including handling pregnancies, university careers, and enabling teen relationships so your Sims can marry earlier, among other features. You can also enable autosave and adjust the length of a Sim day.

Lumpinou's RPO: This mod enhances relationship dynamics and expands pregnancy features. It's extensive, with many modules, and once you've tried it, you won't want to play without it.

Pandasama's Realistic Childbirth: Offers multiple realistic childbirth options, including natural bed births and spontaneous labour, adding depth to your Sims' family lives.

MizoreYukii's Arranged Marriages: Allows you to arrange marriages for convenience. Parents can agree on marriages for their children, but breaking the arrangement won’t be easy.

Necrodog's Carriages and Horses: Adds functional carriages, enhancing immersion. While it doesn't work with the horses of Horse Ranch pack, it’s still incredibly useful.

Kuttoe's Enlist in War: It will allow your Sims to enlist in the war. Whether they live or die will be random, but if they survive, they'll receive the Veteran trait, a lifetime pension and some lasting traumas.

JaneSimsten's Regency Romance: Perfect for simulating the Regency era. It adds class differences, property ownership, etiquette skills, new traits and careers, events, and widowhood. Though inspired by the Regency era, it works well for later decades too.

SimKatu's Reading Animation Override: Changes the reading animations, with different ones for men and women, making your Sims’ reading time more immersive.

Zero's Deadly Dickensian Sicknesses: Introduces the risk of diseases like Tuberculosis, Typhoid Fever, and Cholera. It’s incredibly realistic with its contagion system.

Adeepindigo's Healthcare Redux: A comprehensive health mod that adds various illnesses and treatments, including tuberculosis and (early access) cancer. While Sims can buy modern medicines, many illnesses can be cured with natural remedies.

Adeepindigo's Simulated Endings: This mod will enhance everything related to your Sims' deaths, allowing them to take out life insurance and designate beneficiaries, arrange funeral preparations, and introduce stages of grief for your Sims.

MizoreYukii's Functional Broom: Adds a functional broom with its own animation, letting you keep your Sims’ homes clean without resorting to modern vacuums.

Triplis's Quit or Join School: In case you need your teens or childs to quit school.

The Kalino's Farm Animal Set: Expands your farm with more animals, including goats, sheep, ducks and more, in addition to the standard cows and chickens.

JaneSimsten's Write With Quills: Replaces your Sims' pens with quills, adding a touch of historical accuracy.

JaneSimsten's Sidesaddle Override: Allows female Sims to ride horses sidesaddle, as they would have in the past.

JaneSimsten's Parchment Computer: Replaces modern computers with parchment and quills, complete with their own animations—perfect for pre-typewriter eras.

Frankk's Language Barriers: More realism to sims being from different worlds.

Rs4ella's 1920s Grade School Homework Override: Changes the look of the kids' homework book to a 1920s style, but it works well for earlier periods too.

Xbrilliantsims's Toddler Bathtime Overrides: Replaces modern bath toys and sponges with more era-appropriate items when bathing toddlers.

Lunamoth's Historical Infant Carriers: Swaps out modern baby carriers for fabric slings, suitable for any historical era.

Lunamoth's Rope Pet Leash: Replaces the modern pet leash with a simple rope, making it look more appropriate for historical gameplay.

300yearschallenge's Historical Baby Bath Override: Changes the baby bath seat to a more suitable design, or you can opt for

Sassymissollie's Invisible Infant Bath Seat to remove it entirely.

JaneSimsten's 5 Day Work Week: Choose Your Own Work Hours: Lets you adjust your Sims' work schedules for a more realistic experience.

JaneSimsten's Marksmanship Skill: Adds a marksmanship skill, allowing your Sims to practise shooting and hunting, with the hunted animals available for cooking.

Littlbowbub's Ye Olde Cookbook: Enables your Sims to cook historical dishes, perfect for low-income Sims in older settings.

Basemental's Basemental Drugs: Although mainly known for adding drugs, it’s commonly used for its smoking features, letting your Sims smoke cigarettes and cigars like a proper Victorian gentleman.

MizoreYukii's Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything: Allows your child Sims to die, useful if your storyline requires it.

Ayoshi's Phone to Notebook Replacement Mod: If phone elimination mods are causing issues, this mod might help. It replaces the mobile phone with a small notebook, which could pass for a mini Bible or an old-fashioned notebook.

JaneSimsten's Extra Cross-Stitch Patterns: Adds historically accurate cross-stitch patterns.

[miryum]

Simon Riley has a lot of weird little quirks that I couldn’t fit in any other fic idea

Simon Riley knows how to braid hair and braid it well. French, Dutch, fishtail, anything you wanted. Little tiny braids didn’t deter him either. He would sit on the couch, you standing or sitting between his thick thighs and glare silently in concentration as he braided your hair. He’s also able to pick up any hairstyle real easily. Show him some inspiration on Pinterest and he’ll be able to replicate it almost perfectly. Simon isn’t as good at buns because he can’t quite get how to twist his wrist just right, but give him a strand of hair and he loves to weave it between his fingers. It makes him feel close to you and he is so proud when you wear the braid all throughout the day

Simon Riley folds laundry with military precision and gets a little miffed if you fold the laundry wrong. He literally grumbles and mutters to himself and then re-folds the entire load. He tries to show you how to fold it, but you don’t care as much as him, so he just does it himself. Laundry and the majority of the cleaning goes to Simon because as much as he has qualms about the way you do laundry, don’t even get him started on the way you attempt to clean the house. It’s better for everyone if he just does it

Simon Riley likes to rub his face over your pillow. Especially before or after deployment, he’s like a cat. He circles your pillow in his beefy arms and just presses his cheek to it again and again. It’s like he’s scenting it so that when he goes away, you won’t forget him. You think it’s absolutely adorable and you like to scratch at his hair as he does it

Simon Riley has very strong opinions about Christmas lights. He likes to put them up every year because he grew up Catholic (though he’s now an atheist) and it reminds him of his childhood. He doesn’t really care whether the lights are all white or different colours, but he cannot stand it if they blink. It’s much too annoying and busy and he thinks it’s a cry for attention. It also doesn’t help that sometimes he sees them out of the corner of his eye and the red ones look like the lights on a bomb or the green ones like the call signal on a radio

Simon Riley likes to buy you jewellery. He likes to buy anything and everything that he thinks will look pretty on you. When he finds something with little birds on it, he can’t help but splurge because you’re his Birdie and he loves you

Simon Riley is really good at most any sport, you name it. Rugby, basketball, baseball, American football, the list goes on and on. But put a gun to his head and tell him to score a goal for football and he would take the bullet. There’s really no explanation for it. One could blame it on his utter behemoth size, but he’s able to dribble the basketball or swing at the baseball hurtling towards him, but his feet just trip over themselves as he tries to get the bloody football down the field. He hates that little black and white ball with a burning passion

Simon Riley who is actually pretty involved in the VA. He doesn’t go out and advocate for more funding or anything, but if he sees a homeless veteran, he definitely guides them in the right direction. He goes there once a week just to catch up with everyone. You think it’s very healthy that he’s establishing a community for himself and he really enjoys it – you can see it in his eyes after he comes home Simon Riley who needs to sleep on the couch sometimes after deployment. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold you close, but the mattress is sometimes a bit too soft for him after sleeping on the ground or in a hard cot for weeks on end. You usually end up joining him, just splaying out on his chest. After a night or two, he returns to his place in the bed, holding you close

Simon Riley has the 141 insignia tattooed on his bicep and then the numbers on his chest. He was going to put the numbers over his heart, but, a week before his appointment, he had met you and some little part of him told him to move the tattoo up three inches. He was very glad he decided to move it because a year later he had gotten your initials with a little bird tattooed right over his heart

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[fangsandfeels]

Rewriting Veilguard factions because I can:

Some things I'd have changed for each faction:

First of all, I'd introduce particular race restrictions for every faction because stop pretending they don't matter. The latter only destroys the unique specifics behind every race and its history in the world of Thedas.

Add extra background options for Rook related to their fraction for more roleplay and dialogue options. For instance, "noble" and "foundling" for the Mourn Watch, "new blood" and "veteran" for Grey Wardens, etc.

Remove the "Rook had to temporarily leave their faction because they did the thing and made the upper management mad" thing. Make their decisive action part of their bio, but not the reason for their participation in the main quest. Instead, let Rook to be actually entrusted by their group to get out there and find out what's going on - and end up cooperating with the Solas search group. Let whatever Solas is doing affect every fraction: spirits going stir-crazy in the Grand Necropolis, Lords of Fortune having to deal with Qunari and magical anomalies at the sea, not to mention increased dragon activity, weird elf disappearances in Treviso, Tevinter authorities growing more and more paranoid due to spike in elven slave rebellions (that Shadow Dragons had nothing to do with) and their rare magical artifacts going missing, Dalish elves hearing whispers and voices calling to them, Grey Wardens cooperating with the Inquisitor's initiative to find Solas and sending their volunteer (Rook) to assist. That would add more competence to their character.

Antivan Crows

I'll be frank: it should be Zevran's group, whatever he would call it. While Zevran is definitely not a good boy, he wouldn't make his trainees undergo the same torture he did.

Also, he'd hate the conditioning and brainwashing done by the Crows. So, Rook could have been one of the Treviso orphans already traumatized by the Antivan Crow training - until Zevran came into picture and, after killing the Crows, ended up with a bunch of fledglings on his hands. You can't exactly tell the younglings to go and be free, you have to teach them - while do something about them believing they're only good for killing. Due to this, Zevran ended up training them and getting that self-degrading bullcrap out of their heads. He didn't expect to have a guild of his own, but joke's on him, he is a leader now and now he is going to make Antiva a better place for his underlings.

Once again, it doesn't mean playing for the "good assassin guys", but if you want your morally gray faction, it will do nicely. Zevran isn't exactly a hero, but he is also not a total scumbag who buys people and makes child soldiers.

I can believe that he and his associates would actually be interested in organizing partisan movements around Treviso and killing occupants. After all, Zevran knows Quanri and their views better due to him traveling with Sten (from their interactions, I didn't get the idea that he was super into the Qun or comfortable with Sten's ideas), so he knows what exactly is going to happen to the Treviso denizens. Moreover, he is done with ANY attempts at brainwashing, will breaking, and reconditioning so he wouldn't stand for Qunari doing it, no matter their reasoning.

Available races: human, elf

Lords of Fortune

Just let them be pirates led by Isabela. Yes, the kind that doesn't care if the stuff they take belongs to another culture - because money. But also the kind that takes in runaway slaves and anyone else as long as they can keep up.

The kind that takes on merc jobs and also assists in defending Rivain because it's their territory - and for many, it's their home.

Rook starting out as a former escaped slave from Tevinter is a great template for both a merc with a heart and standards and an absolutely ruthless pirate who sees the world as the dog eat dog place.

Available races: all of them, Lords don't discriminate.

Veil Jumpers

I'd even change the name because it sounds so...not serious. Even Fade Stalkers sounds better (come on, writers, I see what you did with the Arlathan forest, you clearly wanted a fantasy version of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., so just embrace it).

Let this faction be created by one of the ancient elves who used to be stuck in the Fade, then got out - but were NOT happy with Solas, don't want to follow him and don't trust him to fix things. The Evanuris once led them and they ended up enslaved, why should they trust Solas and his good intentions, especially if he claims to be the one to fix and restore the world? So they don't.

They don't see the point in "burn it down and rebuild again" because they already have the bitter experience: so they would rather try their chances with what they have right now, by equipping their people with information and truth.

So, they manage to gather the Dalish people willing to believe and follow them, seeking to educate them and teach them on using magic and tools long forgotten and salvage whatever is left of their heritage, only now with the knowledge of using it.

The most difficult faction to gain approval for if you're not an elf: because some leaders are willing to cautiously cooperate, while others think that Felassan was right and that this world was so much better without humans, dwarves, or Qunari.

Available races: the elf only club.

Shadow Dragons

The in-game faction is mostly fine, aside from the game trying to make it look like Venatori are the only ones who want them dead. No, Shadow Dragons are beefing with the entire Magisterium (aside from Dorian and Maevaris' party) and are depicted as an extremely violent terrorist group both within and outside Tevinter, with only slaves and low-class citizens actually believing in their cause and hoping for their assistance.

Because this is what a corrupt government does - invest in smear campaigns so vile and vicious that you have to be prepared to debunk numerous myths about your group and cause before engaging with people.

This should be particularly painful if you, as a Shadow Dragon, interact with people outside Tevinter because given the real life experience with westerners, people living in safe and privileged first-world countries would rather gobble up the comfortable and refined lies spread by your enemies than listen to you, someone who was oppressed and hurt by your enemy.

Realistically, a Shadow Dragon Rook would have to facepalm their way through the ridiculous shit like "Don't you guys kidnap slaves from their cozy kennels only to forcefully conscript them to your army?" or "Aren't you guys just a bunch of mercenaries sponsored by one of the Senate parties to undermine its political opponents?" or "You're just part of the Par Vollen and Tevinter war. Do you think I'm stupid and don't know you're on the Qunari payroll?" or "All you want to do is to escalate and spread chaos, don't even try to do it here".

Another realistic issue for Shadow Dragons should be dodging Qunari spies. Because, lets be honest: Par Vollen would want to exploit that vulnerability in their continuous war with Tevinter. They would try to offer assistance to Shadow Dragons in order to find a way to weaken and conquer Tevinter or get their hands on secret information.

But since Shadow Dragons want to change their government, abolish slavery and the horrible political system, they don't want to do it at the cost of getting subjugated by the Qunari. So, they have to be extremely careful when picking their agents, making sure they aren't just conveniently placed Ben-Hassrath.

Available races: human, elf, dwarf, Kossith

Grey Wardens

Generally the most involved faction ever since the events of the Inquisition. First of all, where is one taint-corrupted ancient magister, there is two or even three of them. After the Adamant Fortress, they can't allow themselves to be inactive - if exiled from Orlais, they need to make up for this disaster and prevent any further manipulations, if allowed to stay and rebuild, they work closely with the Inquisitor and provide assistance with the search for Solas. Probably, not all of them are aware of the Solas' true nature - they're only given information that he is a much more powerful mage than anyone imagined and that he was the one who released Corypheus and plans for another disaster.

The First Warden is aware of the full story, but pretends to be skeptical for the sake of not arising suspicions (in case Solas' spies are around).

They should also experience issues with some of their elven Wardens suddenly leaving (you can't tell me that elf Wardens won't be tempted with a promise of never succumbing to the Calling) and detect suspicious darkspawn activity.

Available races: all, with Kossith and elves getting extra race interactivity bonuses.

Mourn Watch

The faction and its representatives are generally fine in the game, I just wish there was Cassandra to make disgusted noises at the Mourn Watcher Rook.

Imagine dodging interactions with Nevarran Mortalitasi to the point of appointing a random apostate bum as your Fade expert, only to work with a fucking Mourn Watcher because that bum you hired to be your Fade expert turned out to be a freaking elven god who started all that shit.

The irony is fucking delicious.

Aside from that, I think that Mourn Watch should be the mage-only faction because a) the order is founded by Mortalitasi, who are mages, b) what are the non-mage Watchers even supposed to do when working with spirits and the undead?

They have no tools or means of interacting with them, which means they can end up dead. It's not logical for Watchers to allow a non-mage in their ranks for the inclusivity sake, exposing them to a constant risk and knowing that the mages will be held responsible for the imminent tragedy. I imagine there is non-mage personnel at the Grand Necropolis, but I don't think they're entrusted with the same secrets and duties.

Also, there should be an option to choose between "foundling" and "noble". The foundling!Rook can have a particularly close connection to the spirits, which allows them to single-handedly calm the undead during the War of the Banners, while the noble!Rook has an established family, much more political connections and is well-versed in diplomacy and negotiations, which allowed them to trick the undead barons and put them down when they least expected it

Available races: human, elf

Bonus: new faction idea

Kal-Sharok

Give more exposure to the Titans and the dwarven connection to Stone through the perspective of the Kal-Sharok dwarves. In DAI, they were already shown carrying out their own operations and cooperated with the Inquisition on their own conditions. So, I can't imagine them not being active, especially if they are at least partially aware of the history of Titans and the Evanuris.

Rook can start as one of the Kal-Sharok agents (probably acting undercover at first), and to them stopping or even meeting Solas is of a particular priority because he holds the key to the history of the dwarves, their connection to lyrium, and many other things. This Rook is looking for the truth - and ultimately can decide, whether they should use their knowledge for advancing Kal-Sharok exclusively or should they reconnect Kal-Sharok, surface dwarves and Orzammar because they share the same past and the same trauma.

Also, a Kal-Sharok Rook can have unique mage classes if they're the one with connection to the Stone.

Available races: only dwarves

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am V

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: You want your wife happy

"I'm not going to yell," Aitana said as she came home," I'm not going to yell."

You raised a brow. "You already said that."

Aitana looked at you, the rage in her chest simmering down slightly.

You're lounging on the bed, head propped up on your fist as you wore the most form fitting lingerie you had in your wardrobe.

"What?" You said," Can't a wife want to dress up for her wife?"

Aitana tore her gaze away, affixing her eyes to the headboard and very stubbornly not looking at you. "I'm meant to be angry at you."

"You can still be angry and look. I've dressed up just for you."

Aitana pursed her lips. "You only did that because you know I'm angry at you."

You scoffed in faux offence. "I am offended," You said," To think, my own wife thinks I'd stoop that low..." You winked, a grin spreading across your face. "Is it working?"

A pillow soared across the room, smacking you right in the nose.

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You scrubbed a hand over your face. "From your tone of voice...I'm guessing that you aren't impressed."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

"Are you okay, Tana? You've been repeating yourself an awful lot today."

"You bought the RFEF?!"

You sighed, pulling on one of your dressing gowns. "I wanted to do something nice for you. You were complaining about the management. I'm going to replace them. It's simple."

"Simple? Do you understand how this looks? My wife buying the RFEF? It's...It's unsportsmanlike!"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not an athlete."

Aitana looked like she was about to start arguing again so you pulled her into a hug, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

"You come home after every camp complaining. You talk about how corrupt they are." You shrugged, pulling back to look her in the eyes. "I'm doing you a favour."

"You don't know how to run the RFEF!"

"I'm good at starting foundations," You said," Do you know all royals have to have a cause?"

You relaxed back against the bed, undoing the belt of your dressing gown and allowing the bare hints of your gorgeous lingerie to be shown again.

"Will does wildlife stuff and homelessness and conservation. Harry had the veterans and the Invictus Games and climate change. Mine's been women's sports for a while now."

"Women's sports in a country that isn't your own?" Aitana resolutely didn't look at the lingerie you'd picked just for you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you exposed more of your body, looking up at your wife through your lashes. You flashed her a smile. "It's a nice start. Combatting misogyny at its source." You adjusted your position, widening your stance. "Making sports a safe place for women. You'll find I'm quite a charitable person."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Trying to seduce me!" Aitana looked away from you. Or, at least, she made the action of looking away, turning her chin so you couldn't meet her eyes comfortably. But you could see her gaze darting back towards you, could see the way she had to tighten her hands into fists so she didn't touch you.

"Baby," You drawled," My love. My darling wife, do you think so low of me?"

"Yes."

"Come to bed."

Aitana pursed her lips and turned back to you, her voice soft and quiet. "You bought the RFEF for me?"

"I want you to be happy and going to camp doesn't make you happy. You love football and you should love playing football for your country. I promise I won't interfere much. I'm going to set up a foundation to run it. Just you wait. I'm going to change it for the better."

You looked up at her earnestly, eyes a little wide as you tried to seek her approval.

Aitana stepped closer, until her knees were pressed up against the bed and her body was between your legs.

"You really bought the RFEF to make me happy?"

"Of course," You scoffed," Why else would I want that shitty organisation? I love you. I want you happy. And seeing as you've rejected all my offers to join the Lionesses-"

Aitana rolled her eyes, swatting at your shoulder as she laughed. "I'm Spanish."

"You've got an English citizenship. You're a Princesse of England. I think you should be able to play for Eng-"

You didn't get to finish your thought.

Mainly because Aitana crashed her lips against yours and you melted into it like every time she kissed you.

"What are you laughing about now?" She asked as she pulled away.

You grinned. "You still angry at me?"

"Furious," Aitana said with a grin.

"I can take my bra off, if that helps."

Aitana pushed you flat on your back, settled as she straddled your hips.

"That's a good start."

[hunterrrs]

Bike rides, banana bread and being ‘a bullet’: How Sidney Crosby leads Penguins into a new era - SUCH A GOOD ARTICLE (also baby sid buying a car...)

Whether it was when Crosby baked banana bread for the Penguins two years ago or all the times he has recognized something was up with a teammate and checked in on them, everybody seems to have at least one Sid story to share.

Just as striking to these fledgling Penguins has been seeing how Crosby goes out of his way to make every one of them feel like part of the team.

“He’s so welcoming. It’s honestly crazy how he’s a better person than he is a player given how outstanding he is as a player,” prospect Jonathan Gruden said. “But he’s just an unbelievable person who makes you feel like you’ve been here 18, 20 years along with [Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang]. It’s incredible.”

For Broz, it was that ride on the exercise bikes or sticking around after an informal skate in the middle of July to share pointers with a prospect. For Gruden, it was Crosby texting a young pro who had just gotten called up to the NHL and inviting him over to his house to watch football with the guys.

And for Rutger McGroarty, it started with the text message that Crosby sends many players when they join the organization and quickly evolved from there.

It had been a whirlwind week for McGroarty when the Penguins finalized a trade to acquire him in August. His phone would not stop buzzing as the congratulatory messages poured in. As McGroarty scrolled through them, he froze.

“Oh, it’s Sidney Crosby! Not a normal text you’d get on your average day,” he said. “I was actually sitting next to a couple of my buddies and I showed them.”

A month later, McGroarty was cracking up on the bench at a joke Crosby made.

“He’s a really funny guy,” the 20-year-old said. “It feels like there’s no age gap.”

Crosby sat back at his locker stall at the practice rink the other day, flecks of gray peeking through his black hair and sweat dripping off his chin, as he thoughtfully discussed his leadership style and getting through to Generation Z. For example, McGroarty was literally in diapers when Crosby made his debut.

“I try to put myself in their shoes, but obviously things change. They evolve,” Crosby said. “I think the biggest thing as a rookie is just all the unknowns. You’re in a new league, new team, new teammates, new city. Everything is new. The faster you feel comfortable, that’s a huge part of being able to be at your best.”

Crosby knows his first taste of the league was different, right down to living with Lemieux. He laughed while joking that all these kids won’t crash on his couch.

For the 20th straight season, Crosby is trying to get the Penguins on the same page. They will ice a veteran-heavy team in Wednesday’s season opener. But eventually, the kids are coming — sooner should the team struggle again this fall.

Crosby’s little gestures will help these prospects feel more at home when they arrive. They still may be a bit starstruck. But they will know they belong here.

“It may not seem like it,” Gruden said. “But to a young guy, it means a lot.”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

am in a certain type of mood and wanna write something cosy and nice so:

Retired!Price (Husband) Headcanons

Retired!John who retired surprisingly early after a botched mission forced him to take medical leave and then he just... couldn't go back to work.

Retired!John who has finally gotten the opportunity to change his style and has experimented with many styles of facial hair (including a thick caterpillar mustache!).

Retired!John who, despite still staying so active, eats more and better, and sleeps more and better, and begins gaining a bit of weight, gaining a wonderful dad bod and a nice layer of fat on his hard muscles.

Retired!John who goes to a veteran support group at a local community centre.

Retired!John who definitely started a vegetable/fruit garden in the back of your house.

Retired!John who has taken up baking and is surprisingly very good at it, especially at baking sourdough bread.

Retired!John who volunteers to become the coach for the local children's rugby team.

Retired!John who gets a big fluffy dog for you (Husky, German Shepherd, etc) so that he has an excuse to stay active and fit by taking it on walks.

Retired!John who takes up home improvement and DIY and feels surprisingly at home in hardware shops.

Retired!John who only ever gets up early on Valentine's day, your birthday and your anniversary to go buy you fresh pastries from the bakery down the road, or fresh flowers from the florist.

Retired!John who renovates the house with you, moves furniture around at your request, gets all the paint samples you could wish for from the shop, and works on making your house a home.

Retired!John who sometimes gets into a food coma after eating a nice Sunday roast and falls asleep in his recliner with the dog at his feet.

Retired!John who hugs you tight with his big burly arms and buries his face on your neck, kissing you so sweetly.

Retired!John who holds you close to him on cold winter nights and rainy afternoons as you snuggle together on the couch.

Retired!John who runs hot at night and makes it so you have your own personal heater and weighed blanket as he drapes his body over yours and cuddles you all night.

Retired!John who takes you on all the holidays you wish for and introduces you to places he's gotten to travel to while on the job.

Retired!John, whose favorite thing about being retired is his ability to spend time with you.

[witherby]

chef what are like the small things you think like consey would for the other? or like things they notice about each other that shows how well they know each other?

-🕯

I think the first question is what they'd do for each other? If I'm wrong correct me!

Things Conner does for Mouse:

Foot massages! Mouse is on their feet running a café all day, every day, and even the best orthopedic footwear money can buy won't completely eliminate pain and sore calves.

Partner in Crime! Mouse is tryna prank a family member? He's gathering the necessary materials and performing the distractions. Mouse is about to get in trouble for something they did? Conner did it actually. No he wasn't there. Yes he still did it. Mouse has never done anything wrong ever in their life.

Plus one! If everyone else is too busy to go somewhere or they're uninterested in doing something, Conner will step up. He's already cancelling his prior plans. He'll be there in five.

Things Mouse does for Conner:

Sugar Spouse! Don't think about the fact that Lex Luthor is wealthy in his own right and would obviously pay to clothe and feed Conner. Lex is doing the bare minimum, okay? He deserves to be spoiled and Mouse has cash to burn.

Non-judgement! Conner was born at the age most humans are dealing with the tail-end of puberty. He doesn't know what he doesn't know, and that means he has to learn that money is exchanged for goods and services. That means Lex gave him encyclopedic knowledge about the Justice League but forgot to teach him how to hold a pencil. That means his shoes are slip-ons because he can't tie laces, and he blurts out sensitive information not knowing that it's inappropriate, and cries a little too hard when he's sad or grins a little too wide when he's happy. Mouse takes these social faux pas in stride and corrects them without batting an eye.

Decision making! Superboy is a hero who faces world-ending dangers on a regular basis and often has to act on the fly to solve a problem. That can overwhelm even the most seasoned veterans, so when he gets to come home and take the cape off, Mouse takes charge for a while. They tell him what they're having for dinner or what activity they're doing or even picking out his clothes for the day, so that he can rest his brain and just follow orders for a while.

[cod-indulgences]

I had abdominal surgery a wee while ago and I was thinking of the 141 crowding over the nurses and just babying me,don't gotta lift a finger, oh your water needs filling up lemme do that, oh you need to pee lemme help you to the bathroom so the male nurse doesn't see what's THEIRS and ehen you're back home on base/at the flat they're at your beck and call. Gaz buys a bell you can shake foe help as a joke but as soon as the first bell rings you have 4 massive men filing in at attention.

You know price only trusts either him or gaz with bandage changing since they're more gentle handed as to not rip hair, but soap and simon are peering over shoulders saying it either needs to breathe or needs antiseptic etc etc

Im still on bed rest whilst on heavy opioids for pain so yeah! I'd love me a little feel good comfort if you're able to?

TF141 x female!reader, comfort, non graphic medical injury and healing

Hope you're healing up ok anon!

If you didn't hurt so goddamn much you'd feel bad for the nurses. Simon is in full The Ghost mode, glaring from a corner with the skull plate gleaming in the harsh lights, every inch holding violence. It's a miracle he's not in the full tac gear. Two of your nurses are veterans of their craft and don't flinch, and they get his very grudging approval. The one who flutters her hands and asks you in a stage whisper if you're safe (which....great idea, asking someone that when the perceived abuser is right fucking there...) gets booted out the door and you don't see her again.

Funnily enough, he doesn't care about male nurses as much as Kyle and Johnny do, both of them bristling like guard dogs when it's time to check your catheter, move your legs to avoid swelling, test the incisions over your abdomen. You want to swat them for it, but again, you hurt too damn much. Screw this place and their ideas of "morphine doses" and "let's not cause organ failure".

John is the best of them all, at least while you're in the hospital- he makes sure you have support under your back, talks to the doctors and nurses and takes notes, learns when you need physical comfort and when you are so touched out he needs to get the boys out of your hair for a while.

It feels like forever to leave the hospital, even though you know you got out relatively quickly, no complications- and oh, being home is such a relief. Your own familiar walls and floors, a bed you sink comfortably into, and of course four sweet men doing their best to smother you in love.

The bell is just a joke, but the first time you wake up needing to pee and your phone slid out of reach it ends up being perfect- you clang it and Kyle pops his head in, grinning. "Yes, Princess?" He asks, and helps you stand up and shuffle to the toilet.

John does bandage changing, Simon peering over his shoulder and backseat-driving, and you let Johnny carry you to the couch, kissing him as he settles you into a nest of pillows. You get a kiss from everyone else of course, gentle presses of their lips that settle you better than anything.

Simon hesitates, and then shuffles you around, climbing onto the couch behind you to cradle you in his lap. You hiss a little as your stitches pull, and he murmurs a quiet apology. It's alright, his body heat soothes sore muscles, and you let yourself be cradled and cuddled into a nap.

The bell keeps being useful, you can ring it and within moments any or all of them are coming to you, helping you with everything from wound care to fixing a blanket over your lap. You start making a little game of it, asking for Kyle to scratch your nose, or Johnny to rub your feet, but each time they do it so immediately and sincerely that it just swings around to heartwarming.

You're not sure what the hell you did to deserve this, these big-hearted men giving you kisses and care with every gesture, but you'll take every minute of it.